Longer Still
by sagdragon3002
Summary: Jack’s had a long, hard day. It’s about to become even longer. Spoilers for Many Happy Returns.


Disclaimer: Eureka does not belong to me.  
Summary: Jack's had a long, hard day. It's about to become even longer.

* * *

He really ought to have known better. 

He really ought to have. Not just because he now resided in a town full of geniuses, and all that genius was bound to rub off on him sometime. Not even because his ex-wife had called earlier to inform him that she had run away again.

No, he ought to have known because this was Zoe, his daughter. And as her father, he should have realized that when his ex had called, it hadn't been simply because Zoe ran off to party the night away in some highly-unsavory club.

He blamed the geniuses. It was their fault, creating mayhem that everybody expected _him_ to resolve simply because he wore the sheriff badge, never mind his significantly lesser intelligence. If Walter hadn't gone and turned into pure energy or an electrostatic time field or . . . whatever it was that Henry called it, then he would have paid more attention to the message left by his ex with SARAH and would have known to expect Zoe to turn up on his doorstep at some point.

Now, because of that momentary lapse in brain power, he was on the telephone reaping his dues, and had been for the last hour as Abby Devon reprimanded him for not returning her phone call almost twelve hours ago in regards to their runaway daughter.

"Abby, please," Jack Carter pleaded with his ex-wife over the phone as he massaged the back of his neck, trying futilely to ease away the tension building into a headache. "She may as well stay here. I've got room, and she says she wants to."

"If she said she wanted to become a crack-addict rock star with more piercings and tattoos than she has body parts, would you let her do that, too?" Abby retorted tartly.

"Well, first I'd point out that she lacks the body parts to do all that," Jack replied smartly, grimacing as he realized what had just passed his lips. Humor as a defense really had its pitfalls. "Zoe's actually made herself a little nest on my couch right now. She's never done that at your place—at least, not within five minutes of coming in."

And his daughter had—with a blanket and two pillows she had dragged down from one of the spare bedrooms upstairs, her knapsack full of her "essentials," and _his_ bowl of multi-flavored ice cream. She grinned widely up at him before sticking a spoonful of Rocky Road in her mouth. He sneered at her, never mind his maturity or "role-model" status.

"Jack, Zoe is a sixteen year old with a penchant for running away and pretending to be flight stewardesses. She needs a supportive parent around and let's face it, you haven't been there for her as much as I have. Can you really step up and go to all the conferences and plays and science fairs _while_ you work?" Abby asked tiredly.

Jack spared a moment to think, _Oh, god, science fairs. If the adults who have years of experience manage to __**stumble**__ into chaos, what the hell will the untaught __**kids**__ do?_ Aloud, he said, "Yeah, yeah, talk to Zoe's teachers and find out what headaches she cooks up when she's not bugging me. I think I can manage all that, Abby."

Zoe stuck her tongue out at him and ate another mouthful of ice cream with exaggerated care. Jack nearly took the bowl away from her when Abby's voice distracted him again.

"Well, Jack, what about her schoolwork?" she asked. "Zoe can get the best education California has to offer. And—where are you, again?"

"Pacific Northwest," Jack answered vaguely, biting his lip. "There's a very good school here, too, Abby. She'll do fine."

_For a school in a town full of geniuses meant to teach the offspring of said geniuses, it had __**better**__ be worth the tax dollars I'm paying._

"But what about tutors and extracurricular opportunities?" Abby pressed.

"Oh, I'm sure there's a kid or two who's smart enough for the job," Jack answered. Zoe snorted, putting a hand near her mouth to ward off any spectacular gush of ice cream from escaping.

Abby sighed, and Jack could sense the exasperation radiating from her. "She really wants to live there? Wherever 'there' is?"

"Apparently," Jack lifted a brow at Zoe, who shrugged back innocently. "She hasn't complained about wanting to go out for a night on the town yet."

"Well that settles it, huh?" Abby laughed humorlessly. There was a significant pause, and she added, "Take care of her, Jack."

"I will, Abby," Jack responded, grimacing as Zoe took an unladylike scoop of ice cream. "You take care of yourself, alright?"

Hanging up the phone, Jack surveyed his daughter with a shake of his head. Shoulder-length blonde hair that lay in flat, straggly waves framed a pale, elfish face. Blue eyes inherited from him sparkled at him in the hopes of eliciting a scolding or some other reaction that meant he was noticing her. Her clothes were what Jack guessed was "hip," though as he generally dressed according to his profession (which meant, currently, his sheriff's uniform) he had no clue whatsoever what the hell "hip" entailed.

"So, I can stay?" Zoe asked chirpily, flashing a smile as she lowered the ice cream bowl to her lap.

Frowning, Jack reached over and snatched the bowl away, making her grumble. "Thief," he muttered, sitting down on the couch and taking a scoop of Chocolate Peanut Butter.

"But you still love me dearly," Zoe left the couch to obtain her own bowl. When she returned she resumed, "So, I'm staying here?"

"I ought to send you back to your mother's," Jack pointed out, dipping his spoon swiftly into his daughter's bowl. She swatted his hand, but he came away with a spoonful of Mint Chocolate. "I would say you frightened her, but she's gotten so used to you missing she knew exactly who to call."

"Then what was with all the yelling?" Zoe retorted.

"She was mad at _me_ for not calling her sooner and letting her know you finally made it," Jack assured his daughter, finishing off his bowl. He began eating out of hers, ignoring her dirty look. The playful slap against his shoulder made him pull away, and he shot her a grin before taking another scoop of ice cream from her bowl.

"So, how was your day?" Zoe asked, taking another spoonful.

Jack sighed, putting his spoon in his empty bowl and leaving Zoe's ice cream to her. "Oh, just feeling the aftereffects of dealing with time fluctuations . . . or electrical energy . . . something like that. It was Walter Perkin's doing."

"Isn't he dead?" Zoe frowned.

"Apparently he didn't die, just got . . . displaced . . . never mind," Jack shook his head, stretching his arms out above him while extending his legs. "I'm too tired to explain something I don't understand."

"Hmm," Zoe nodded, looking contemplative. "Hey, Dad?"

Jack turned his head toward her. "Yeah?"

"You think you could call Mom and ask her to send the rest of my stuff? I couldn't exactly fit all my CDs in here," Zoe nudged her knapsack with a foot.

Jack shuddered at the thought of dealing with his ex-wife again, especially with such a sensitive subject as their daughter's residence. "Tomorrow, Zoe. Today's been too damn long."

* * *

A/N: I took liberties with Jack's wife; if and when we see her on-screen, I may change this fic to fit better with canon. 

And thanks to Abigail who pointed out the proper name; I, too, watched the marathon and noticed that canon-fact, but it's nice to have readers help out with those little facts.

Edit September 30, 2007: For those who read _Longer Still_ before this date: My brain seemingly created an alternate universe where, instead of Allison confronting Walter, it was Jack and furthermore he was injured. I have no other explanation for it, but in my preference of keeping my AUs to a minimum, I've edited this piece. Sorry to those who found the continuity error irksome.


End file.
